


The Warmth of Their Sunlight

by freckleslikeconstellations



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Flowers, Greenhouse, Modern AU, Multi, Multiple Lives, Rooks - Freeform, Teacher-Student Relationship, University lecturer/Tutor William, Vicbourne, cute fluff, hearts yearning for one another, re-birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 21:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8176646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckleslikeconstellations/pseuds/freckleslikeconstellations
Summary: The warmth of their sunlight has been reaching towards each other for years ever since their forms of Queen Victoria and Lord Melbourne, but never quite touching properly until now.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. :3
> 
> Any lines that you recognise or paraphrasing of such lines belongs to Daisy Goodwin. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this. I 'd love to know what you think. :)

**October 2015**

 

“Mama I do not need a tutor!” Victoria says angrily, flouncing around the modest sitting room with its black fireplace, tartan settee and old-fashioned wooden brown cabinets with their display of plates celebrating old Royal couples, delicate china cups and photos of various family members. Victoria makes to sit down on the blue armchair that’s beside the settee, her boho-braided hair bobbing a little over her shoulders.

 

She had used to live with her mother-also called Victoria-in a larger, old-fashioned house in Kensington, but after the economic crisis had begun in 2008 they’d been forced to downsize to a smaller abode that was a little further away from the centre of town. To say that her mother had not been amused would be an understatement, but then again Victoria hadn’t been amused either when her mother had invited John Conroy to live with them. Apparently it was because they would be mixing with more common people now and he could protect them. Victoria had never heard such nonsense in her life. She’d been going to a normal school her entire life-mainly due to her own insistence-and there had been plenty of common people there. No, she was sure that Conroy living with them was just another attempt on his part to control both her mother and her and she didn't like it. Just like she doesn’t like her mother’s latest suggestion now. 

 

“Drina you know that I haven’t been satisfied with that school of yours for quite a while. William Lamb is a lecturer at Imperial College, he was recommended to me when I went up there. I have spoken to him and despite his dubious past”- she sniffs and Victoria tenses up a little. She’s heard all about Lamb’s extra-marital affairs and how his son George had died and his wife Caroline had then left him for a lover of her own. The whole sorry affair had come out not because Lamb was well known-if anything he seemed to be making a good effort to keep his head down-but because his now ex-wife is a gossip columnist in one of those women’s magazines and newspapers had paid her good money to tell her story in segments over the course of a week. Victoria hadn’t read the articles herself, but she feels like she has because she’d heard about the saga from Mama, who has that particular magazine on subscription and who had even lowered herself to buying a tabloid newspaper on the relevant days so that she could read all about it. Mama had almost dictated the whole thing to her and then gone on to complain about the fact that a man like that could keep his plush house, whilst they had to leave theirs. Still, Mama seems to be accepting that he has some worth inside him now. “He is well-educated and has promised me that he shall teach you everything that he deems worth knowing, which the school haven’t taught you already.” Victoria opens her mouth. “You shall have an advantage over your peers, which will come in most useful for when you start applying to universities and for later life in general.” Victoria’s mother goes on as she comes to stand to the side of her daughter. Victoria closes her mouth and thinks about it for a moment. 

 

Eventually she says, “But I have quite enough to be getting on with already what with all my work for my A-Levels and I do not need any more and to be confusing the two up.” 

 

“You are a clever girl,” her mother says, not accepting the excuse for one moment, “I am sure that you will be able to separate the two,” and with that the decision’s made and she strides out of the room. 

 

Victoria sighs after her. 

 

*

 

The sky is grey when Victoria cycles to Mr. Lamb’s house that Saturday on her black bike with its old-fashioned basket. She’d left leaving her house as late as she could, insisting on lingering in her room, writing in her journal about the previous day’s events and playing with Dash her Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. But then her mother had come up and started fussing that she must be on time and that wretched Conroy had been waiting to see her out of the house with a smug smirk upon his face as he’d held the door open for her. How she hates him! And how she hates her mother for making her do all this! She must be very desperate to go up in the world indeed if she’s placing her only daughter with someone of such rogue sensibilities. How horrified she must have been when the university had suggested Lamb of all people to her. Victoria lets out a bit of a snort as she pictures her mother’s open-mouthed expression and nearly swerves out into the path of a maroon car because of it. There’s an angry hoot of a horn and Victoria steadies the bike again, breathing a little quickly. It’s a relief to locate the red brick house that has ivy climbing upon it and white pillars either side of the door and steer the bike into the driveway of golden corn gravel. She plucks her brown satchel from the basket, still breathing a little heavily and clambers off the bike. She’s only just managed to rest it against the mighty yew hedge that separates Lamb’s property from the next one on the right when her head whips around quickly at the sound of the house’s black door opening. 

 

A man who Victoria knows from pictures is William Lamb steps out of it and Victoria swallows, immediately feeling tense as her eyes rake over his tousled dark curls, grey eyes, cheekbones and the dark waistcoat he’s wearing. Although his smart black trousers have been neatly pressed and his equally dark shoes look polished the white shirt he’s wearing is a little ruffled and his slightly less than perfect appearance has reminded Victoria of his dubious background. She feels immediately on her guard. Her hands come to clasp in front of her and her cerulean blue eyes grow dark with suspicion, whilst her shoulders become rigid. 

 

As he takes in her boho-braided hair, the navy dress that she’s wearing over blue jeans, the dainty black shoes that she has on, which does nothing to help her short stature and the ruby heart-shaped pendant she wears, which twinkles out at him, not to mention the distrustful expression that clouds her youthful face William finds himself letting out a breath of amusement by the fact that someone so young can already be so strong-willed. It is odd, if any one else had come on his property and given him the look that she’s currently giving him then he would have felt as if he was being unfairly persecuted, but already, without ever having seen her before in his life there is something about her that makes him feel more at ease than he is done for a very long time. It is like coming home to someone special after a long day at work. 

 

The sight of his grey eyes shining with mirth though does nothing to help Victoria’s feelings and she folds her arms as she says, “You must be Mr. Lamb.” She begins to walk towards him in a grudging fashion. 

 

“Yes,” William murmurs, “But no matter what the reputation that precedes me is I can assure you that I am not about to leap on you as soon as we go inside.” In the coming weeks he will begin to realize just how ironic that statement is, but for now he is glad when his words serve to chink the young girl’s armour and she finds her lip twitching upward in spite of herself. 

 

*

 

Their study sessions begin, occurring on weekends mostly, but occasionally on the odd evening too and every day during the half-term holidays and Victoria slowly finds herself relaxing more and more around William as his humour continues to thaw her. Slowly she begins to think that no matter what has occurred in his past he regrets that now and is trying to be a different person. Just like she is trying to resist her Mama’s desires to make her every bit the prim and proper young woman and still maintain her character. In fact William is nothing but a dignified gentlemen in her presence and more than that he is just as every bit well educated and knowledgeable as Mama had suggested that he might be. Victoria finds herself liking him more and more and even begins to think that it is ex-wife who deserves to be slandered more than he and that she’d made William out to be worse than he actually is. She particularly feels sure that he must have a kind heart residing in that body of his when he gifts her a telescope that Christmas.

 

*

 

William too is finding Victoria to be most agreeable now that her attitude has softened towards him. She is a good and dedicated student, though with a flair for not hiding her feelings and for speaking brashly at times, as if she knows more sometimes than he. Their age difference doesn’t seem to matter to her, but William can tell by the sometimes repenting look that graces her eyes after such blunt words that she does on occasion regret being so bold and the fact that she is so clearly trying to pull away from her pedigree roots makes him feel both oddly happy and apprehensive. He also finds the way that she speaks in such an old-fashioned way and with such maturity intriguing. Sometimes though he thinks that he’s getting in too deep because there are particular urges and thoughts that he cannot help but have around her. Thoughts of admiration for her vigour and youthful spirit, the fact that both nothing and everything seem to scare her and the odd little things he notices about her physical beauty. How the light falls upon her hair for example. He knows from the way that he catches her looking at him sometimes and from the blush that she carries upon her face whenever he praises her that she feels such a thing too, even if she hasn’t realised that’s what it is yet. But there is something even more worrying than that and William is determined to carry it to the grave with him and never tell her of it. When he’d first begun to realize such a thing he’d had to have a couple of drinks, but not even they had been enough to stop him from noticing how his heart craved to be near hers when she’d come around that following day, and not in the normal, excited, _‘I am attracted to you’_ way either, but with all the need of a soul being re-united with another once thought lost. The idea is madness though. He must keep it to himself. 

 

*

 

It is hard though, hard to keep denying himself the opportunity of telling her the truth when his desire and want to do so whenever she is around just seems to be increasing, and one early Saturday morning in March when the sky is dappled with pale sunlight and an orangey glow and Victoria asks, “What will we be studying today?” William cannot do it so entirely any longer. He has been struggling for an age and toying with the idea of delicately introducing the concept of it all to her. He does not want to scare her after all and if she could perhaps start to work it out for herself then he wouldn't have exactly broken his promise to himself. He would have just pushed her in the right direction. He swallows. He knows that he is playing a dangerous game here and more than that perhaps one that is not morally right. He looks over his shoulder from where he’s standing by one of the black kitchen counters preparing tea, past the marble kitchen island to where Victoria is seated to the side of the wooden rectangular table, her back to the clear coffee table that holds a photograph of his deceased son and the woman who had left him. William looks across at them both for a moment, admiring the orchid taken from his greenhouse that’s in a navy vase in between them as much as his departed loved ones and wondering what they would make of the threshold that he is on the verge of crossing. His ex-wife would probably tell him to get over himself. His son, God bless his heart, had died too young to give any advice or coherent thought on the matter. The coffee table has been placed in front of a leather brown settee, which is adjacent to the transparent sliding doors that lead out into the greenhouse that sits to the back and left of the neatly trimmed square lawn garden, which is lined with flowerbeds. William looks away from the haven of the garden and back to Victoria. He has a choice to make, but the books that he’s placed on the table are already halfway there to him making it. He’d placed them there deliberately, before she’d come, so that he might actually go through with it and not lose his nerve this time. Still, as his heart pumps he’s tempted just to excuse them, say that he’d merely used them to look something up, before she’d come. 

 

His mouth though doesn’t let him. His mouth says, “I thought we’d do history in the morning and then a bit of modern politics this afternoon,” in a breezy manner, before he makes to dry a yellow cup with a blue dishcloth that he’s picked off a hanger to his right as he keeps his back turned to her. 

 

“What century?” she enquires. 

 

“The nineteenth,” William replies, placing the cup down upon the counter and adding a tea bag to it and its light blue companion. “After looking over the curriculum that you have been subjected to over the past few years I felt like perhaps your knowledge might be lacking a little in that area. Up until now you have merely covered twentieth-century history and the nineteenth-century is truly a fascinating one. Many inventions that led on to the modern appliances that we know today were made back then.” He pours the tea as the kettle comes to boil. 

 

Victoria takes in his words with interest. She senses by his slightly evasive behaviour that there is perhaps another reason for why William wishes her to know about that time in particular, but instead of coming out and asking about it in a blunt fashion as she usually would she tries for the subtler approach that he seems to prefer when she says, “Well, I dare say that Mama will be pleased to hear that I’m learning about my namesake at last.” William looks over his shoulder at her with arched eyebrows and curious grey eyes. “Queen Victoria?” she raises her own eyebrow at him. 

 

William gives her a bit of a sheepish smile. “Forgive me,” he says, “I’d suspected as much from your family’s old-fashioned sensibilities, but I wasn’t sure.” He looks away again. His heart is racing. He’s actually going through with this. 

 

Her eyes peruse him as a smile toys about her face. “Is that why you want me to learn about that era?” she asks, crossing her ankles beneath the table. 

 

“Well,” he finishes making the tea and comes to join her with both cups, “Partly, but partly too because of the reasons that I’ve already explained.” 

 

“You’re very mysterious sometimes Mr. Lamb,” she says, casting another glance at his family photographs, the only two that she’s ever seen in the whole house, before she takes her tea from him and sips at it a little. 

 

Seeing where her gaze had gone to he gives her a half-smile, before he quickly ducks his head as he slips into the chair that’s at the head of the table and begins to attend to his own beverage. His stomach swirls with guilt. Should he really be doing this? Beginning to uncloak the mad idea that he feels is true, but sounds absurd? Trying to tell her of it? Trying to lead them both towards a future together when there couldn't be any more reasons for not doing so? He is her tutor for goodness sake. Her mother would disapprove, society would disapprove, Victoria would probably think him the rogue she’d been certain he was on their first day of meeting. Perhaps she might even turn against him, and if she does not then he is over twenty years her senior and so aged and cynical compared to her. It is wrong, so very wrong, and yet, as his heart skips a beat in his chest part of him knows that as reckless as this venture is there is something so very right about it too. Something that he cannot deny…he hears the call of the cuckoo clock coming from the sitting room and starts back to life again. “Right, down to work,” William says, trying to get himself together as he lowers his light blue cup to the table once more. 

 

As usual as the studying begins Victoria takes her notebook and blue fountain pen out of her brown satchel and keeps her feet swung back together underneath her chair. It would not do for her to perhaps bring them forwards and risk them coming into contact with the smart black shoes that he’s wearing. The odd feelings she occasionally has are already being set off enough by the smell of William’s spicy cologne and she does not wish to encourage them further. 

 

He opens one of the books, dragging it in front of her and as he does so his white shirt-covered arm very lightly brushes against the dark top she’s wearing that day. She jolts from the act and his eyes go to her. “Forgive me,” he says, not being able to help but feel both excited and apprehensive by the joyous whispering that had started in his heart at that one delicate touch. 

 

Victoria nods as if it had not been anything but a mere trifle that he should not even be apologizing for in the first place. Nods as if her heart is not currently racing and her hands are not growing warm. 

 

They begin to study. William’s soft voice drifts over her and his fingers every now and then direct her to a page or particular paragraph in one of her textbooks. Things are as ordinary as ever, but for some reason Victoria can’t concentrate. Her mind keeps going back to Mama’s latest wishes for her and her own confusing reactions that she does not seem to be able to help whenever she’s around William. Sometimes she wonders what it would be like to touch his hand, collarbone, to stay up with him late into the night as they talked about their respective lives… 

 

Her behaviour does not go unnoticed and finally her mentor shuts the book that’s in front of her with a little sigh, making Victoria’s fingers, which had been close to the edges of the book retract quickly and her cerulean eyes look up at him in alarm. A faint blush colours her cheeks as she does so, like paint being applied to a canvas, whilst her mind worries that she’s about to be told off. 

 

“Is something troubling you?” William clears his throat. “I only ask because you seem to be distracted today.”

 

A little breath escapes Victoria as she leans back. “You know me too well,” she smiles, glancing ruefully at him for a moment, before she looks down again. She toys with her pen, rolling it in between her fingers. 

 

“Perhaps another cup of tea?” William enquires gently, reaching for her now empty cup. 

 

Her pen drops instantly to the table. “No,” she says, her hand going automatically to stop his. The tips of her fingers brush against the back of his hand for a moment, sending a little zap through her as if she’s just come into contact with static electricity, before she pulls them away again. She swallows. Her hand falls into her lap and her eyes watch it, before they dart up to stare in a troubled thoughtful fashion at the edge of the table. Her unaffected hand nurses her other one, cradling it and trying to soothe it with the gentle prod of her fingers. She hasn’t felt that before with any one and once more she worries about this odd affliction that she seems to come down with whenever she’s with William. She soon becomes aware that William is watching her curiously though so she says, “No. Thank you, but no.” Very slowly she gathers up her courage and looks at him again. Those grey eyes are fixed on her studiously, but not unkindly. She swallows again, shifting her position. “It’s just something that Mama said,” she confesses, before she admits, “I shouldn't be letting it get in the way of my studying or wasting your time with it though.”

 

“It must be important. Perhaps you wouldn't mind sharing it with me?” Victoria’s breath seems to hover inside her mouth, not exiting or entering. “I might be able to help,” William goes on. 

 

“I don’t think you could with this,” Victoria smiles regretfully at the table. 

 

“Perhaps just discussing it might help?” he pushes. 

 

“She treats me as if I belong to a time that is long dead sometimes,” Victoria sighs and William’s eyes widen a fraction, before he watches as she picks up her pen and turns it so that she can trace a circle into the wood. “She wants me to find a husband,” Victoria finally admits and William’s breath hitches inside his chest, “As if I am a damsel in distress who needs a man to comfort me. I am _seventeen”-_

 

“A delicate age,” William breaches tentatively, being reminded once again of how much he has been through in his life and how little she has. She has not even left school! He is foolish! Foolish to embark upon this venture! 

 

“But I do not need her or that wretched John Conroy who behaves like a step-father to me thinking that they know what’s best for me. I do not need them _choosing_ for me.”

 

“Perhaps then,” William begins delicately, opening the book that’s in front of her again and being very careful not to touch her chest this time as he restores it to its former page, “You will find that you have more in common with Victoria than just the fact that you share her name,” and those words alone make his heart beat quicker. Victoria looks at him steadily. “Her mother wanted her to marry too.” Their eyes meet. 

 

“But she found Albert and he was all that she needed,” Victoria says pretentiously as if she already knows enough about how that tale had gone to make a definite judgement upon it. 

 

“Yes, but she struggled for a long time, before she asked Albert to marry her,” William tells her gently, “I would not even think it an exaggeration to say that her mother probably worried that she would end up like Elizabeth I and end up unmarried forever.”

 

“Perhaps I will be like that too then,” Victoria says decisively. 

 

“But Victoria did love and did marry,” William reminds her, “And in any case Elizabeth I also had relationships with people even though she didn't marry.”

 

“She did?” Victoria raises an eyebrow at him. 

 

“It is said that she considered marrying Robert Dudley, her old childhood friend who she made the Earl of Leicester,” William says, “But never mind Elizabeth, for now it is Victoria who we shall be studying,” he nods, tapping at the book and Victoria smiles. 

 

They continue to study and Victoria, trying far harder to concentrate now, becomes so engrossed and heated in the young Royal’s secluded life and the control that her mother had seemingly had over her that they don’t even reach 1837-the year that she’d become Queen-before lunch. 

 

After the quick break William’s attention seems destined to turn to modern politics. 

 

“But we haven’t even reached Victoria’s really interesting years yet,” Victoria protests, before she finally becomes placated when William tells her that she can take the best textbook home with her and carry on finding out about Queen Victoria at her own leisure. 

 

They settle down and begin talking about Thatcher ism when Victoria, now facing the outside, finds herself becoming distracted once more. Her eyes gaze out of the transparent sliding doors, observing the light movement of the grass in the breeze and how the sun’s rays make the roof of the greenhouse shine. 

 

William breaks off from his speech and looks at the dreamy expression that’s in her eyes and the way that she’s cupping her cheeks with those delicate fingers of hers in amusement. He can already tell that her mind has floated off to a much happier place than the mining strikes of the 1980’s. He is reminded of another reason for doing what he is as he watches her. Reminded of how before she’d come into his life he’d been growing miserable and dissatisfied. The woman who had once been his wife had moved on, but his mind had still been stuck on the mistakes that he’d made in the past even though he’d known that it was now too late to fix them. He’d gone through life in a daze. Getting up in the morning, eating a quick breakfast on the move rather than eating alone in the house, going to university, working late-always late even if it was research and his research assistant Emma was telling him to go home because he had nothing to go home for, nothing to dwell on but memories that seemed to take up the entirety of the house-go home, sleep, repeat. But then when Victoria’s mother had come up to the university and bossily insisted that he’d been recommended to her and he’d then met the young woman who’s still sitting off to the side of him in a daydream it had been like he’d slowly come back to himself again. As if a reason for living had sprouted inside him, giving him hope, because something about her had seemed to need him. Not so much for the knowledge that he was distilling upon her, but just so that she had someone who wasn’t her mother and her beloved dog Dash-who he has heard so much about-that she could properly talk to and who could properly respond to her. It had felt like perhaps all his pain and heartache hadn’t been for nothing if the sorry story of his life could help him give her the wisdom that she needed to make better choices in her own life and once more he feels like that, along with the pining of his heart is the best reason for him to be doing all of this-to keep that hope going, _flourishing_ even. He swallows. “Victoria?” he utters as he comes out of his thought. She looks at him suddenly again and there’s that beautiful blush once more upon her face. He should not be noticing such things. “Another hour of this and then I shall take you out to the greenhouse if you wish to break things up?” 

 

Her face relaxes and she smiles at him, a big great big beaming smile that makes his heart flip over. “Oh yes, I’d like that very much. I haven’t seen the greenhouse at all this year,” she claps her hands together enthusiastically and he feels pleased to have made her happy. 

 

They toil through another hour of politics together and then as soon as the exact minute is passed Victoria pushes the textbook aside and climbs to her feet vigorously. 

 

“I’m flattered,” William smiles. She looks at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone so keen to enter my greenhouse before.” Victoria blushes and waves a dismissive hand. He chuckles and leads her outside. 

 

The sun is lower in the sky now and it casts an orange glow over everything reminding Victoria of that morning and how much pleasurable time has passed since then in the company of one that she truly cares about. The air is cool, but pleasant and Victoria closes her eyes and tilts her head up towards the sky for a moment as she breathes it all in. William moves on obliviously towards the greenhouse, but when he hears the tread of her movement change he turns around to look. To his surprise it is to find that she’s now skipping. She grins with only a little embarrassment at him noticing and William finds himself smiling back at her as she stops in front of him. Her cheeks are rosy and her eyes are sparkling as she looks up at him. William once more feels as if she’s enriching his life and to try and combat it all because he’s already acted recklessly enough today he clears his throat, swivels smartly around on his heel and moves to open up the greenhouse-he keeps the key in his pocket at all times, no matter what he’s wearing. Even at the university it is nice to feel the press of the key against his leg and to be reminded about something he is so passionate about during days of difficulty and to remember about all those happy hours of contemplation that he’s spent in the greenhouse. Once the door’s been carefully pushed open he holds it ajar for her and tells her to mind the ridge between the greenhouse and the outer world. She gives him a smile as if he’s being silly and he feels something shifting inside him again. She brushes against him as she goes past and he feels that tug. It is possible that she feels it too for she clears her throat, before she spins around, waiting for him to join her with her hands clasped in front of her. She seems to look even more beautiful in that moment. All the flowers and growth behind her seem to bring out her own youth even more, whilst the sun’s rays seem to be reaching towards her face as if they long to caress her skin just like he does. Recovering and chiding himself again for having such impure thoughts about someone so young he steps inside and closes the door carefully behind him, trapping them in the sweltering heat and in each other’s company. They proceed carefully. William takes the lead just one pace in front of her and shows her the various flowers. There are roses, tulips, sunflowers, daffodils and carnations amongst many more different types besides. Colour surrounds them as well as scents that combined make Victoria’s nose wrinkle. They stop from time to time so that they can admire the flowers more fully and William can inform her of the Latin names of them and of other facts besides. As usual she is the perfect pupil, taking in what he has to tell her and asking her own questions. Every now and again as they move on William realizes that she has fallen silent and turns to find that she’s half-bent, her nose to one of the glorious flowers that he’s cultivated carefully as any piece of research that he’s done. She flushes each time he catches her, but he just thinks that she looks all the more radiant because of it. When they come to the white orchids he can’t help but pluck one and give it to her. She takes it eagerly, cupping it in her hands and bringing her nose down to smell its scent. She closes her eyes as she does so and William wishes that he had a camera to capture the scene before him. He does not however and so he just hopes that his mind will be able to hold onto the memory of it forever no matter what might be to come in the future. 

 

“Do you know that flowers can have meanings?” he says without being able to help it. She looks at him and slowly shakes her head. William swallows. Once more he feels like he’s crossed a line that he shouldn't have. “Perhaps I will teach you them sometime,” he says, trying to backtrack. 

 

“For now,” she murmurs, “Perhaps you could just teach me about what this one means and why you have given it to me?” She holds the orchid out to him. 

 

Once more William swallows, the meaning he’d associate for this particular gift flaring up in his mind instantly: love, desire. Instead he says, “It represents our friendship of course and for my want for you to do well in your studies.”

 

She nods thoughtfully, not disappointed or particularly happy about what he’d said. Just thoughtful. They move on and the visit to the greenhouse soon comes to an end. 

 

Victoria releases a great gasp as she steps outside of it. She had not quite realized just how hot it had been in there. “I really should be going soon,” she says, looking up at the sky, which has grown even more orangey now, “I think Mama will be expecting me to help her make dinner.” William nods, closing the door of the greenhouse behind him. “But perhaps I could play the piano, before I leave?” she looks back at him. 

 

“It is always an honour to hear you play Victoria,” William says and she beams up at him again, before full of energy she skips back inside. William follows after her, once more admiring her spirit. 

 

As he stands beside her in the sitting room in which the brown piano is located facing the green and white patterned wallpaper William finds himself nearly closing his eyes as he listens to Victoria play, letting the music fill up the house and his very soul and savouring those last few moments of human contact, before silence will descend upon the house again. He only comes to life once more when every now and then there is a little pause and he hurries to turn the page for her, before she can do it herself. On and on she goes, her dainty fingers making light work of the piano’s keys despite their small size and William finds that the music still resonates in his head long after she’s gone. 

 

*

 

“Now Victoria,” Mama says that night over their meat and vegetable dinner as they sit around the circular wooden table and Conroy sits just opposite with that self-righteous smile playing about his face, “You must not be so stubborn over the issue that we tried to discuss with you this morning”-

 

“Tried to discuss with me Mama?” Victoria blurts out without being able to help it, the slightly softer nature that comes out inside her sometimes when she is around William disappearing and her whole being on the defence again. She lowers her carrot pierced fork. “I was not aware that either Mr. Conroy or you were trying to discuss anything with me this morning. As far as I was aware you were just telling me what I might be able to expect for my future without letting me make any decision towards it myself.” 

 

“Come,” Conroy says, “There is really no need to excite yourself. Your mother and I are simply trying to do what’s best for you. Besides,” he says slyly, “You made the same fuss when we first insisted on that tutor of yours and that seems to have worked out remarkably well. You seem to be enjoying yourself very much now.” Conroy gives her a knowing little smile that makes her face tighten and her fists clench around her cutlery. She scarcely knows how she feels about William sometimes and she does not want _him_ making assumptions and acting like he knows how she feels when in reality he has very little idea. _She_ has very little idea. 

 

“Do you remember Albert Drina?” Mama asks and Victoria’s head whips back towards her. 

 

“Mama no,” Victoria cries mournfully, “You surely can’t mean”-

 

“Now calm yourself Victoria,” Mama urges, placing a soothing hand over her daughter’s own and Victoria realizes that she has half gotten out of her seat. She sinks back down again. “Albert is a lovely boy and what is more is that his family have always been good to us.” Victoria opens her mouth, about to protest again, but before she can her mother goes on, “There is surely no one at your school who can compete?” with a quirk of her eyebrow. 

 

“Perhaps not,” Victoria relents, comparing what she remembers of Albert’s brooding intelligence to the foolish, reckless boys at school who seem more intent on getting drunk than in wooing girls the right way. Her mother wears a momentary look of triumph that soon diminishes when Victoria goes on, “But why must I marry at all at my age? I won’t be in school for much longer and then new horizons shall be opened up to me. I shall have university. Perhaps I might meet someone there.”

 

Victoria’s mother looks at Conroy pleadingly. “Your mother wants you settled,” the deplorable man tells the youngest of the two in a quiet, firm voice. Victoria narrows her eyes at him. “To see you happy.”

 

Victoria shakes her head at him and lays her cutlery down against the plate with a tinkling crash, before she stands. “I shall be happier without either of your interference,” she huffs as she goes around the table. Her mother tries to call her back, but Victoria ignores her. When she makes it out of the door and shuts it behind her she lets out a breath of relief. Dash, who is not allowed in the dining room at meal times under any circumstances, is waiting for her and greets her enthusiastically, wagging his tail and looking up at her with those great big brown eyes of his. She feels calmer just from seeing him. “Oh Dash,” she says, strolling down the hallway towards the stairs with the dog at her heels, “You understand don’t you? You understand that, that man in there,” she jerks her head back, “Really has no care for me at all. All he desires is mother for himself, so that he doesn’t have to compete with me for her attention any more.” Dash wags his tail even harder and lets out a little bark as if he really _does_ understand. Feeling lighter Victoria lets out a little laugh and runs up the narrow staircase, her hand slapping against the white banister. Dash lets out another little happy bark as they enter Victoria’s navy-walled bedroom. “When I marry I want it to be for love, not for the convenience of others,” Victoria says wistfully as she slips out of her shoes and falls upon the double bed, landing on its plush blue duvet. Dash jumps up on the bed too and moves to curl up beside her as Victoria makes to rest her head upon one of the light brown cushions that take up the head of the bed along with the white pillows. She strokes at her little companion for a moment, her temper cooling as her fingers weave through his soft fur. Dash shifts a little, letting out a contented sound and resting his head upon his paws. Victoria lets out a little breath and finds that her other hand goes to pick up the telescope that William had given her from where it’s resting diagonally on top of her brown bedside cabinet. She rolls it in between her hands, letting the feel of its cool metal calm her, before she uses it to peer up at the flaky white ceiling. Victoria thinks not for the first time that if where they were living was up to her mother then she’d have to send a message to today’s Queen to tell her that Buckingham palace isn't safe and will soon be taken over by her mother. She snorts and Dash wriggles pleasurably by her side. She sits up, puts the telescope aside and reaches across the bedside cabinet to her black desk to retrieve her maroon journal. Usually she’d write about what had happened the previous day that following morning, but she feels a great urge to record everything right now. As she begins to put down the days events and concludes that her mother is ruining her life, not for the first time-the first time had been when she’d invited that dreadful man Conroy to come and live with them-Victoria finds herself thinking about Albert and the issue of love once more. Albert is originally from Germany, they’d first met his family in fact when they’d been on holiday there, but now he lives in the North of England with his father and brother. His mother had left when he was still young and Victoria does not know why her own mother wants her to marry him. As far as she is concerned she has never once given the impression that she is close to Albert, and the reason that she’s never given her that impression is because they’re not. Every time the two families have come together, usually meeting somewhere in between both homes, it’s her mother who seems to get on with his father, not Albert and she. Of course Ernst, Albert’s brother is funny, but wild too, and Victoria can see why her mother does not wish her to marry _him._ But Albert. _Really?_ Every time Victoria has met him she’s thought him a dreadful bore. He seems more content to go off on his own on walks that seem to take an age than talk and try and get along with anybody. It might just be the fact that he’s a teenager, but Victoria doesn’t think so. The fact is that Albert’s just a miserable boy who has no desire for anyone’s company. She doesn’t think that she’d be the only one with a problem to this match and she snorts suddenly as she wonders if Albert has heard of her mother’s intentions for them and as she pictures his sulky face transforming into one of wide-eyed embarrassment and horror. She lets out a bit of a giggle. Albert has probably never felt anything towards a girl before. He probably wouldn't even know how to react if anyone ever flirted with him. He’d probably just scurry out of the room. She laughs a bit again and finishes off her writing. Once she does so she remains sitting there cross-legged on the bed as she flicks back and forth through the little book. She’s probably being a bit harsh on Albert she concludes. After all, it’s not like _she’s_ ever felt anything towards a boy herself, nothing aside from annoyance anyway. Towards a man though…those odd feelings that she sometimes has towards William come back to her again and she wonders about them. They’re not love are they? As she continues to flick through her journal she suddenly realizes how often William’s name is down there. There is scarcely a page since she has met him where he is not mentioned, whether they’d been studying together that day or not she’d managed to weave him into her accounts, saying that _‘William wouldn't have taught that in that way’_ or _‘William would have done this’_ or even _‘I wonder what William might be up to on a night as fine as this one. I hope he’s not sitting alone in that big house of his.’_ She swallows. He’s become a big part of her life, that she can’t deny. But he’s her tutor, that’s all. He is mentioned because she has delighted in all that he has taught her. It is nothing more than that. If it were then it would be more inappropriate than Albert. More inappropriate than anybody. She huffs out a sigh and grabs the textbook that William had earlier let her borrow from her desk in the hope that it will distract her. She settles up against the cushions, pillows and headboard and begins to read, stroking at Dash every once in a while who is now peacefully asleep. When she comes across the name William Lamb in her textbook however she lets out a bit of a shriek. A shriek that sends her mother running towards her. 

 

“Drina is everything”- her mother says once she’s pushed the door ajar. 

 

“Fine Mother,” Victoria says, letting out a bit of a breath and pushing the book down against her bent knees, “A spider just came onto my book and gave me a bit of a fright that’s all. You know how much I hate them.”

 

“This house,” Victoria’s mother says, still grumbling about it all as she moves off again.

 

Victoria is sure that there are still spiders even in Buckingham Palace but she carries on with her reading quickly, desperate to find out more. She soon discovers that William Lamb or Lord Melbourne as he had been known _-Lord M_ to the Queen and Victoria smiles at that, imagining her bestowing her own William with such a nickname-had been Queen Victoria’s first Prime Minister. The more she reads the more engrossed in it all she becomes. It appears that some people had thought the Queen too close to her Prime Minister and even given her the nickname of _‘Mrs. Melbourne.’_ The title _‘Mrs. Lamb,’_ flickers about Victoria’s head for a moment, whilst something in her belly wriggles and she’s not sure what to make of either thing. It appears that nothing untoward had ever happened between the Queen and her loyal subject, but the more that Victoria reads the more she can’t help but notice certain oddities about her own present situation. Lord Melbourne seems to have been a sad man just like her own William. Both have deceased sons and estranged wives. Whilst Victoria finds it odd that she not only shares the Queen’s preferred name, but that she has her own Albert who her mother is pushing her towards. She reads a bit more, before her mind concludes that it’s too late for her to do so any longer and she retires to bed. 

 

Her brain fixes on the matter all night though, even when she is asleep, and she has an odd dream where William’s face morphs into Lord Melbourne’s, before changing back again. She doesn’t dream about Albert at all. 

 

That next day is a Sunday and though she hadn’t planned to meet up with William she cycles over to his house anyway. 

 

This time she manages to put her bike against the hedge without him coming out to investigate and she goes to knock upon the black door. She gets no reply so she tries again. Still nothing, so finally she calls, “William? William?” in a voice of pure insistence. She steps back and looks upward, but turns her head when she hears some scuffling coming from the right. William comes out of the wooden side door that could probably do with being replaced if the brown rusted nails that are holding it all upright are anything to go by. The path from it leads to the garden, but Victoria does not try and look past him to see it. Instead her eyes just fix on the way that William’s dark hair is tousled, his cheeks are stained with soil, how the neck of his white shirt is open, revealing his glistening collar bone and how the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up. She takes in his arms. They too are blemished with dirt, but it is the fine black hairs that her eyes particularly fix upon. She swallows. 

 

His eyes, which had been enquiring, widen a little, before they relax when they see her. “Victoria,” he breathes, and the way that he says her name sounds so delicate compared to the rough way that he looks. “You must forgive my appearance,” he apologizes with a wave of his hand, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

 

She feels oddly flustered. “Sorry, I know that you weren’t, but there was something that I wanted to ask, about-about the textbook.”

 

 _“Oh?”_ he takes a step forwards and looks concerned. Inside his heart increases his pace and his mind both worries and grows more excited. Has she already worked out everything so soon? 

 

“Yes,” Victoria swallows. “Um, perhaps-perhaps we could”- she points towards the garden. 

 

“Of course,” William nods. He leads the way. Once he reaches it he walks a little diagonally across the grass, before he turns back to her. 

 

“I just found it a little odd,” she waves her hands, “To read about someone who shares your name so out of the blue”-

 

“Ah yes,” William’s face clears though his heart jumps with nerves inside his chest, “Just like you were named after Queen Victoria I was named after William Lamb,” he explains.

 

“I see,” Victoria says. 

 

“You were expecting another answer?” William asks her searchingly. 

 

Victoria looks around for a moment, taking in the early morning light against the greenhouse. “Perhaps not entirely,” she says finally as she looks back at him, “But I did notice too that you share a number of similarities with the man”- William’s face clouds over and worried that she’s overstepped the mark she hurriedly adds, “And that I too share certain ones with Queen Victoria.”

 

William’s temper cools considerably at that admission. “I suppose that certain similarities can be found if looked for,” he says evasively, feeling off-put by her once more acknowledging his regretful past. 

 

Victoria looks at him, studying the way that he can’t quite seem to look at her. “I suppose what I'm wondering is if there’s any particular reason that you wanted me to know all those things?” 

 

Suddenly William does not want to tell her and even though he will be spiting himself and he will surely regret such a thing later he says, “None that I have not already explained to you.” But perhaps it is best this way he thinks. After all he did not want to tell her himself in the first place. He wanted her to make the discovery and perhaps if she fails to then things aren't really the way that he feels they are in his heart. 

 

“I see,” Victoria says, and though her voice is firm she feels an odd kind of disappointment settling inside her. “I am sorry to have disturbed you then,” she rallies herself, “I shall be off.” She makes to turn around. 

 

But feeling suddenly apologetic for the way that he’d just treated her William says, “Actually, now you’re here perhaps I could teach you to look after the flowers today?”

 

She turns back to him with arched eyebrows. “I wouldn't want to be any trouble.”

 

“You could never be that,” he assures her in a tone that’s probably too husky and sincere to be decent. Whatever the case he can’t help it and it makes Victoria blush, before she nods. The pair of them make their way inside the greenhouse. 

 

It’s warm inside there again today and over the course of the next couple of hours Victoria helps William attend to the flowers, watering and feeding all those that need it, before she watches admirably as he pushes some fresh soil around the newest saplings where shoots of green are just starting to emerge above the earth to further support them. As she watches she realizes that though currently wild in appearance there is tenderness in his activity, just like there’d been when he’d said her name. 

 

“Perhaps you could come around more and help me with them?” he says, wanting to make up for his behaviour. 

 

She considers the thing for a moment with a ducked head. “I’d like that,” she says finally and William smiles. 

 

Shortly before lunch they go inside and wash their hands, before William pours them both a glass of water to reward their hard efforts. They sit around the kitchen table to drink them. 

 

“I have more in common with William Lamb than just a name or what happened to our respective wives and sons,” William begins carefully, looking at her suddenly and Victoria feels surprised that he has brought the matter up considering that he seemed so reluctant to speak about it earlier. She can’t know that he’s tentatively trying to push her in the right direction again. “I nearly ended up going into politics myself.”

 

_“Oh?”_

 

“Yes,” he seizes upon her astonished reaction, “I doubt that I would have ever become Prime Minister like he did, but in the end I decided that I was not all that suited to the rabble of government, so I went into teaching instead.”

 

“It is probably a much nobler occupation,” Victoria says, though she wants to say much more besides that as she bites at her lip and looks down. She wants to say that she’s sure that William would have had a very fine career in politics whether he’d been Prime Minister or not, but that he surely could have reached that height if he’d wanted to. She wants to say that if he had gone down such a route though then her life would have surely been a much poorer one because of it due to the fact that they would never have met and she would never have benefited from his teachings. In the end though she doesn’t add anything to her previous words because William lets out a sudden snort. She looks up at him. There is an air of mischief about his face and his grey eyes are gleaming. “There is something else?” she enquires. 

 

“Yes,” he says, getting to his feet so that he can take their now empty glasses back. He takes a couple of steps towards the kitchen island, before he stops and looks back over his shoulder at her. “I have an almost unhealthy fascination with rooks.” A burst of laughter escapes Victoria’s lips, before they exchange a smile. 

 

*

 

The next couple of weeks are pleasant ones. Victoria spends every moment that she can with William. She helps him in the greenhouse. She listens to the way that he talks about everything. One night she writes in her journal: _He really does seem to know everything. I am blessed that he never became a politician and that fate made sure that we would be together instead._ She also finds out more about Queen Victoria and Lord Melbourne, but slowly the book becomes nothing more than something that she gives a fond smile, before she drifts off to sleep each night, tired after a good day and too immersed in thoughts about her own William. 

 

It’s one night like that, at the end of the fortnight when she has just cast a fond glance at the book, the telescope and the flower that William had bestowed on her all that time ago that the thought that she is possibly in love occurs to her. She considers it for a moment, thinking once more about how many times she has written his name and even come close to writing, _‘Mrs. Lamb’_ sometimes. _‘Mrs. Victoria Lamb.’_ She would have if she had not been so terrified about someone seeing it. Victoria thinks about how much knowledge he has given her and how she has sometimes wondered what it would be like to have those hands touching her instead of the flowers. What it would be like to have those strong arms wrapped around her. She blushes, before she reminds herself that just because she finds him physically attractive doesn’t mean that she’s in love. But the more that she thinks about how everything he is has affected her the more that she can’t deny that she might be. 

 

The next day however when they are in the greenhouse again and his grey eyes catch upon hers, so full of energy and life as his hands press against the soil she feels a jerk of something, a pull towards him and she knows that there is no point in even speculating or wondering about it any more. She’s in love. Why else would she be feeling all these things? She smiles and they both go back to their tasks. 

 

He is wonderful, that is what she thinks on her way home that evening, everything about William Lamb is wonderful. The curls in his hair, the teasing light in his grey eyes, the way that he dresses in such old-fashioned distinction, all that knowledge that he has inside his head, but more than any of that he is wonderful because of the way that he’s treated her. He has never once made her feel small or stupid for not knowing something; he has only ever encouraged the widening of her knowledge and helped her to do so. He has made her feel safe. More than that, _happy._

 

“Drina,” her mother says, accosting her as soon as she gets into the house. She pulls her daughter’s hands towards her and takes in the soil that lingers beneath her navy painted fingernails in displeasure. “You've been bothering Mr. Lamb and those flowers of his again I take it?” Victoria lets out a little breath. She is sure that William does not look upon it as her bothering him; she hopes that he doesn’t anyway. “Well, you’ll have to inform him that you won’t be able to go around there next weekend because Albert and his family are going to be visiting. There is not enough room for them to stay here”-Victoria’s mother sniffs unsatisfactorily-“But they will be with us all day and for most of the evening I expect.”

 

“Mama how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want someone like Albert? I want a man, not a boy”-

 

“I hope you are not telling me that you have grown fond of Mr. Lamb, Victoria”-

 

“So what if I have? William is ten times more like the man that I wish to marry then Albert will ever be,” Victoria says without being able to help herself.

 

 _“William?”_

 

Victoria claps her hand over her mouth at realizing her faux pas, before she makes a sound of annoyance and rushes upstairs. Dash who’d just been exiting her bedroom wags his tail in greeting, but Victoria brushes past him without a word and sits on the edge of her bed where she begins to cry. She puts the back of her hand to her mouth to try and restrain herself. 

 

Victoria’s mother lets out a bit of a sigh as she looks up the stairs and her hand curls around the banister. Conroy catches her eye and she nods at him, telling him that it is as they feared it might be and that he must act. Whilst she goes upstairs he slips out of the house silently. 

 

“My poor Drina,” Victoria’s mother coos as she comes to her daughter’s bedroom door and finds the girl weeping upon her bed with one arm flung around Dash. She goes to sit on Victoria’s other side. 

 

“Oh Mama,” Victoria gurgles and her mother pulls her daughter sideways to her, “Sometimes I feel as if I shall never be happy.”

 

“Of course you will one day my dear,” her mother entreats, “But your feelings, as real as you may feel that they are for this man, are misguided ones”-

 

 _“Mama!”_ Victoria cries indignantly. 

 

“They cannot be reciprocated Drina. Mr. Lamb is several years your senior and even if he did feel the same way, which I am afraid my poor Drina that he does not, then he cannot return them. It would be most inappropriate.” Victoria opens her mouth. “Oh my dear,” Victoria’s mother pats at her daughter’s hair, “He has had many women in the past and will have many more again in the future, but I'm afraid that none of them will be you. You are young and deserving of so much more than what he can offer you. But give Albert a chance when he comes around and you might find that there is something worthy inside him.” Victoria nods and gurgles slightly.

 

*

 

William finds himself listening to some classical music with his eyes closed when there is a knock upon the door. He abandons his comfortable armchair and goes to answer it. He is surprised to find that John Conroy’s standing there with a smug yet concerned expression about his face. 

 

“I need a word Lamb,” Conroy says, before William can say anything. “I have come on behalf of Victoria’s mother. 

 

“Of course,” William says, opening the door wider, before he turns and makes to lead the way into the kitchen. His head spins. “I hope that there is nothing wrong with either of the Victoria’s?” he enquires. 

 

His companion doesn’t say anything and merely takes a seat at the kitchen table when they enter. William, with an uneasy feeling inside him, goes on to make the tea. Neither of them talk again until it is done and they are both seated at the table.

 

“It seems like the day that Victoria’s mother and I have felt has been approaching us for a while is now upon us Lamb,” Conroy announces, and still, feeling uncomfortable, and much like a lamb up for slaughter, William sips at his tea. It is too hot to be drunk comfortably and it makes his lips sting. He tries not to wince, whilst Conroy looks at him coolly. “It appears that Victoria has grown fonder of you than is appropriate.” William’s heart starts to bang against his ribs and his cup makes a chinking sound as he lays it inelegantly back down upon the table. “It is a silly thing, no doubt grown out of her childish schoolgirl mind,” Conroy says dismissively, waving a hand, “But as I'm sure that you can understand it is not appropriate for you to be teaching her any longer. I will pay you the fees that are owed to you tonight and then the matter will no longer be a concern.”

 

William’s mind whirs as it frantically tries to come up with a way where his contact with Victoria can be prolonged. “I can understand your reasoning Conroy,” he begins carefully, “But it seems a rather abrupt and if I may say so _cruel_ way to bring our sessions to an end. Perhaps you could let Victoria come to me for the rest of the week and then I could think of some way to get out of them in the future?”

 

“You wish to let the girl down yourself?”

 

“It would seem like the most appropriate option under the circumstances,” William says cautiously. He wants another chance to see Victoria, to see if she has drawn any conclusions from what he has been trying to tell her and to see if her heart really feels like it should be joined with his. _“Besides,”_ he says with a bit of an edge to his tone, “I would not want to give her another reason to think poorly of you when she already seems to hold such a low opinion.”

 

A muscle twitches in Conroy’s jaw. “Very well.” He rises from the table. “In that case I shall return at the end of this week and our business shall be concluded then.” He casts his companion a withering gaze. “See that it is done William.” He leaves a moment later. 

 

William sighs into his tea, thinking about it all. Perhaps he should really have not tried to get Victoria to see the truth after all. He really does not want to lose her and he would prefer to love her from a silent short distance than never get to see her again. Suddenly he regrets his feelings of love for her too. No matter what had happened in the past he should not have let his feelings grow inside of him like one of those plants in the greenhouse in the present. He should have kept them in the dark and tried his best to stamp them out rather than letting the warmth of her sunlight make them grow. But it is too late now and because she has also been careless, letting her feelings develop into a tangle rather than trimming them-though because of her age he feels that the fault lies with him alone-they stand to lose each other forever and _God_ their separation will hurt. The worst thing is that he’s not even sure that they’ll be able to find each other again. In another life… 

 

*

 

William and Victoria continue with their study sessions three evenings that week, though both are quiet and stuck inside their own heads. It is as if they are already practising for their separation and the distance that will shortly be between them. William can tell by Victoria’s red eyes that she has been crying of late and he suspects that she knows that they will soon have to be apart in spite of the fact that he has not yet said anything to her and neither her mother or Conroy have. He can’t know that she’d heard her mother talking to Conroy and has worked out for herself what will have to come to pass. Whilst Victoria senses from her tutor’s thoughtfulness that being the gentleman that he is he’s struggling to know how best to end things. 

 

When she is playing the piano that Friday afternoon and he is standing diligently beside her, listening for once with open eyes and a heavy heart to the music that will one day fill the house up no more Victoria can’t take it. Can’t take the fact that their meetings are more melancholy than fun these days. Can’t take the tension that’s in the air between them. Can’t take the way that the softness of his breaths remind her of his presence, but how he refuses to turn those breaths into words and say what is needed, so she stops her play and just lets her fingers hover over the keys for a moment. Whilst the sound dies and William’s eyes go to her enquiringly Victoria keeps her gaze fixed upon the piano lid. 

 

“I know that they are trying to keep us apart,” she says in a wavery fashion and William’s breath hitches inside his chest for at last the defences to this conversation have been breached. “I have heard Mama and Conroy talking and I know that, that is what they wish and that you have taken it upon yourself, being the type of person that you are, to stain your own character again rather than let me think any less of them, but I wish that you wouldn't and that he had not come to visit you.”

 

“Why?” William asks curiously. 

 

She twists her head and looks up at him for a moment, her hair, in its usual boho- braid, curling a little around her neck as she does so, before she gets up silently, brushes past him and makes her way to the greenhouse. William follows her, stopping a little distance away and watching as her delicate pale hand brushes gently against the leaves and stems of some of the flowers, before she stops. She is wearing a blue shawl today over a lighter blue dress and she draws the former closer around herself now as if she is both protecting and bracing herself for something. “I was sure that I would never tell you what I am about to,” she begins, turning around to face him, “That it was something that would merely be kept to my journal,” she offers him a small, shy smile and that smile alone has William’s heart dancing. “But since we are destined to be separated and since you probably know anyway”-she smiles at him ruefully this time-“Then you should know that it should not have been that man who told you how I feel for the first time, but I myself, and I need to tell you now that although I only realized such a thing as recently as last week I need to tell you”- she lets out a bit of a breath and seeing that her courage is wavering and feeling the own swift beat of his heart inside him, but wanting this moment to continue so desperately for both of their sakes, he steps closer towards her until he is looking down upon her and watching the sun’s rays shine across her hair. Feeling more confident as he takes her hands and holds them in between their bodies she meets his gaze once more and says, “I do not think that my heart could ever belong to any one but you.”

 

He lets out a little breath. He can tell that she has thought carefully about every word and that makes him feel touched. He does not wish to disappoint her or crush both her heart and spirit after she has made such a brave admission. He wants to treat her as delicately as he treats one of his flowers, but he knows what he must say. What he _needs_ to say. He squeezes at one of her hands and glances off to the side of her as he says, “Do you know that rooks mate for life?” She lets out a breath that flutters in the air between them, as gentle as any butterfly, “If I had tried to distract my mind less after the death of my son and paid my wife more attention”-

 

“She should not have done what she did. I would not”-

 

“No,” William murmurs, looking at her properly now, “I believe that when you give your heart it will be without hesitation.” 

 

“Then why”- she grasps at his hands-“Are you saying all these things about the past and trying to let me down gently like my mother and that foul man want you to when I am giving my heart to you?” His lips part. “Do not stoop to their cruelty William.”

 

 _William._ The sound of his name upon her lips makes his heart take flight like one of his favourite birds, but no, he chides himself, it cannot be the way that she wishes it, the way that they _both_ wish it. “I am an old man Victoria,” William says, “That is the truth of it, and you cannot give your heart to me because you are so young and you have not truly tried to see who else might be deserving of it”-

 

“There is no one else,” she protests, pushing her hands against his.

 

“But there should be,” he says; pushing her hands away and making her move back. “You ought to give Albert or someone else a chance.” Victoria’s face falters. “I appreciate that we have spent a lot of time together and that such time has naturally cultivated fondness between us, but I am sure that when it comes down to it you do not truly desire to be with me”- 

 

That is the worst blow that he could have ever given her. “Do not take on the job of deciding how I feel. Not when there are already two people doing that,” Victoria says scornfully, turning away from him. William looks at her feeling both adequately told off and saddened. “Is that it then?” she asks, “Are we just to part? Have you not been happy enough in my company that you’d just cast me aside so easily?”

 

“You know that I’ve been happy,” William acknowledges softly. 

 

Victoria turns back to him with something more satisfied about her face. “Then are you just going to let my mother and that man take it from you? Are you not going to fight for your happiness? I thought that you’d shown me that you were more of a man than that William.”

 

William sighs. She would make it difficult for him. Finally he says, “I do it not to give them such pleasure but because I believe it is what will truly be best for you in the end.” He turns his head away from her ever so slightly. 

 

“I know what is best for me and I have already decided that I do not wish for us to part so easily. I will fight to remain in your company even if you do not want to do the same for me,” she says, touching delicately at his cheek and staring imploringly into his eyes as she tilts her head back to hers. Won’t he see what she wants him to?

 

He jerks his head back. “Your behaviour is not”-

 

“I am seventeen”-

 

“And I am in a position of trust,” he says, stepping back from her with a huff of breath and spinning around. He’d been stupid to do all this, to let things get to this point. Whatever had happened in the past, whatever they might be, all this is wrong. “Your mother trusts me with you,” he says, “Trusts that no lines will be crossed even if you should want them to be. She would rather that I broke your heart”- his voice trembles for the first time and he is forced to break off. 

 

“Then don’t,” Victoria says softly, bridging the gap between them and reaching to touch briefly at his hand, “Don’t break it for her, don’t break it for anyone unless you want to break it for yourself”-

 

“You know that I do not want to,” he gurgles. 

 

“Then why are you fighting so hard to try and do so?” she questions. 

 

“Why do I fight so hard?” he questions, and then what he believes is the reality of the situation finally begins to spill out of him, “The truth is that I’ve been fighting hard for years and perhaps it is time that you knew it,” he turns around with a sniff. 

 

“What do you mean?” she asks. 

 

“I believe,” he begins cautiously, “That we are born again and again, especially if the fates have decided that we have not achieved what they want us to in our first life or even our second or third. I believe that for whatever reason it was Lord Melbourne and Queen Victoria who were destined to be together and because they were not their souls were re-born and wired with that one purpose. Yet they had different bodies, different names and for whatever reason they either did not manage to find each other again or reach that desired point even if they did. Until _us.”_ He shifts his position, his grey eyes steadily upon her. “It sounds absurd I know,” he runs a hand through his hair. “Like madness. But I believe that this is the closest since that life that they have got to being together.” Although there is hardly any gap between them somehow she manages to step even closer and look into his eyes imploringly. “It is like you yourself have said,” he says, trying to make her see it now that he has started, “We have been given the same names and our situations have become remarkably similar to the ones that I believe the first two versions of us had.” He waves a hand. “Why even the way we speak to each other, I am not sure about you, but with me I find myself speaking in a much more old-fashioned manner than I would with anyone else, save for my assistant perhaps, but Lord Melbourne would have had an assistant too and perhaps her soul has also come this far.” He lets out a little breath. “It is almost as if the fates are giving us no excuse not to see it this time.”

 

As Victoria stares at him it is like something clicks into pace in that moment. Like all the papers in her mind flutter about until she just sees his name as it once was. “Lord Melbourne. Lord _M,”_ she breathes, seeing the man in front of her not through her seventeen-year-old eyes but as the Queen she’d once been. 

 

“Ma’am,” William says automatically, seeing Her Majesty in front of him now and going down on one knee, so that he can kiss at her hand just like he’d done so many times before in a past life that he can’t even remember, but which feels so familiar to him.

 

“You would see us separated again?” Victoria asks as William stands up again and her voice sounds suddenly severe. 

 

“I”- William says, all the excuses in the world coming to his mind. 

 

“But we are not Queen and Prime Minister now. We are man and woman and have found each other again, and yes, you are my tutor and are in a position of trust, but I am seventeen and I know what I want.” She stands on her tiptoes and tugs his head down to hers, gripping at his black curls, before their lips come together at last. 

 

They barely brush against each other though and she hardly tastes the musky, slightly earthy scent of him, before William is pulling away from her again. “Ma’am…Victoria… _no,”_ he breathes. 

 

“You promised that you’d teach me everything,” she says in a stern tone as her feet touch back down. 

 

“Yes, but not that,” he says, his throat feeling a little dry and his whole body consumed with desire as her hand still holds onto his hair. 

 

She looks at him in frustration. “What possible excuse can you come up with now when you’ve practically admitted to me that you’ve known all this time that this is right?” 

 

“I…” William struggles, “I must give you some time to think. To know that you have made the right choice”-

 

“I already know,” Victoria protests, growing perplexed and exasperated by him. 

 

“For me then,” William relents, “So that _I_ might know that I am doing right by you.”

 

Victoria huffs out a bit of a breath and nods. She looks down. “After tomorrow then?” she looks back up again. “It is when Albert and his family are coming around. If I have not seen any sudden glimpses of worth in him as Mama puts it then I shall sneak out in the night and meet you here, right in this very spot. If that happens then I dare say that you will no longer be my tutor, but perhaps things will finally be as they should?”

 

William nods. That seems like the fairest method for them both, even though ideally he’d make Victoria wait longer, a month perhaps, maybe even more, but he senses that she’d refuse such an idea. 

 

Victoria gives him a knowing look, as if to tell him that he is most right and that she would definitely rebuke something so foolish, before she leaves him. 

 

*

 

“Things are coming together at last Dash,” Victoria says to her faithful companion late that night, before bed. She picks up the telescope and takes it to the window, wearing nothing but her white nightgown. She gazes up towards the sky with the metal device. The stars are splattered across it in a perfect symphony in their navy canvas. “This time tomorrow,” she murmurs, “I shall be with Mr. Lamb… _William_ at last.” 

 

As William gazes up at the same sky from where he is stood in the garden with his hands inside his black trouser pockets he does not feel as sure. 

 

*

 

Albert is an irritation. A good-looking irritation Victoria has to admit-even she hadn’t failed to notice the way that his tight jeans flattered him along with his smart white shirt, cream-coloured sweater vest and muddy green tie or the way that his dark hair had carried a graceful kind of ease as it flopped over his forehead and the way that his moustache tickled her skin almost pleasurably as he’d kissed her cheek upon his arrival-but an irritation all the same. For the first thing that he’d done after that had been to curl his lip up at her and move his gaze straight onto her mother and she’d rued all the effort that she’d put in, wearing a green and white floral patterned dress and even tying her hair up in a bun at the top of her head. She’d felt cross that she’d done such a thing to try and please him, to try and please everyone. Felt like the only person that she should have done so for was William. 

 

Ernst, bedecked in a leather jacket, tight fitting white t-shirt and jeans that day, must have sensed her annoyance with his brother for he’d bounded towards her merrily, patted her on the shoulder and then given her a kiss of his own, before he’d said, “Take no notice of him Victoria. He’s merely pretending that he hasn’t noticed how beautiful you are.”

 

At which point Mama had quickly directed them all into the sitting room and promised to make drinks for them all. 

 

Victoria had watched, when said drinks were ready, how Mama, aside from talking to the boys father who had been his charming public self as usual, had kept a near constant focus on Albert, asking him questions, drawing him into every conversation and ignoring poor Ernst completely. Not that Ernst had seemed to mind. Knowing what she was doing he’d just started his own conversation up with Victoria instead. Mama had not been amused. 

 

Now, over lunch, Mama is doing exactly the same thing, talking to Albert again who seems a little flattered but somehow gruff and shy about the attention all the same. Ernst is too busy eating his chicken dinner to intervene this time, so Mama has full control of the floor. 

 

“Do you play the piano Albert?” Victoria’s mother asks. 

 

“Yes,” comes the short and slightly German accented reply. 

 

“How wonderful,” Victoria’s mother says, clapping her hands together and Victoria and Ernst exchange an eye roll, “Drina plays a little”-

 

“Forgive me Mama, but I play more than just a little,” Victoria says indignantly and Ernst snorts into his red wine. 

 

Victoria’s mother turns her gaze upon her. “In that case Drina both Albert and you should talk together about this passion that you share. Why don’t you both go for a walk together after lunch instead of staying cooped up here?”

 

“Only if Ernst can come too,” Victoria pipes up quickly, looking at her preferred choice of companion. 

 

“Actually Drina,” Victoria’s mother says in between drinking her wine, “I’d quite like to talk to Ernst myself after lunch.”

 

Ernst bows her head in her direction, before he sends Victoria a little smile of apology. Victoria feels regret fill her. “My brother really isn't all that bad,” Ernst tells her in an undertone. 

 

Victoria makes a little _‘Humph,’_ noise in her throat and turns her head away as if she will be the judge of that. 

 

After lunch is finished and cleared away Victoria and Albert get ready to leave for the walk that neither of them want to go on. 

 

“If Ernst can’t come then Dash can at least,” Victoria murmurs to herself more than anything, before she calls the dog down from upstairs. She does not notice how Albert’s face turns a little sour. 

 

“I expect that is how you want the man you marry to be?” he says, staring down at the way that Victoria pets enthusiastically at the dog, whilst the creature’s tail wags and his eyes sparkle. “Always prepared to run to you and do anything that you wish?”

 

“I am not so sure about that,” Victoria says a little testily, straightening up, “It is my belief that a man and woman in a relationship should be there for each other an equal amount, not one more so than the other. But I am glad that you recognize that it is a man that I want Albert and not a silly boy,” she finishes, and with that she turns around, gesturing Dash to heel, before she makes outside. 

 

Albert feels something inside him in that moment, a pull towards her and a want to understand more about her and this game that she is playing, so he follows her. 

 

She leads him in silence with Dash trotting faithfully at her heels to the closest park. Once she enters she stops, looking back at Albert and noticing how wide his eyes have gone. Having only been to London once or twice before he is not familiar with the city and has never seen any of its parks before. “Really Albert, did you not know that London has parks of greenery too?” she asks him in amusement. 

 

He half-glances at her, before his eyes go back to the clean lawns and pathways in front of them and then to the small gathering of trees that lay towards the back. He drinks it all in, in admiration, but is still hesitant in his praise when he says, “These are not the forests that I like. But the space is still an impressive one to be had within such a busy city.”

 

“If it’s forests that you like then let us make for the trees,” she says, and with that she’s off. 

 

Albert just watches her for a moment. There is something beautiful about her and the way that the sunlight looks upon the curve of her neck in that moment despite that stubborn hothead of hers. She looks over her shoulder at him, a smile toying about her lips, and he hurries to catch up with her. 

 

It is much more companionably that they pass all the other walkers and picnickers and enter the small group of trees via the path. 

 

“Father said that your mother told him you’ve been spending much time with a tutor recently-a William Lamb-and that’s why she felt you were in dire need of our company,” Albert says, watching how Dash scurries about in front of them with his nose to the ground though he turns to look back at them every now and again. 

 

Victoria instantly grows tenser at the mention of William. Aside from the moment upon Albert’s arrival she’s been trying to push her tutor out of her mind all day, to not let comparisons of him stain her thoughts about Albert, so that she can try and really give the latter a proper chance as everyone it seems wishes her to. William therefore is the last person that she wants to discuss with the man that her mother wants her to marry and she feels annoyed once more at the interference. “Yes,” she says when Albert won’t take his eyes off her, “I suppose that’s the way that it would look to Mama.”

 

“You have not been spending a great amount of time with this man then?” Albert asks. 

 

Victoria kicks out a stray pine cone that’s fallen onto the path. It skitters off towards the grass and Dash looks back at it for a moment, before he carries on his way again. “Oh no I have,” she says. She thinks about it for a moment. So many things come back to her. Her initial reluctance to have a tutor. How William’s soft voice had passed on fact after fact and his gentle, steady presence had won her over. The way that she’d noticed him looking so peaceful sometimes when she played the piano. How his fingers had looked against the soil. How soft his hair had felt clasped in her fingers just last night and how it had felt to press her lips against his. How she’d longed to do it for longer! Albert sees the change in her appearance, how her face seems to glow suddenly and how her eyes become both more alive and somehow dreamlike and he doesn’t like it. She must remember who she’s walking with suddenly and catch something of his expression for she tries to downplay it when she says, “It’s only because he knows so much though.” Still she can’t help but add, “Why he has so much wisdom inside his head that it could fill a whole library of books”-

 

“Yes, it is only because of that I’m sure,” Albert says with a clear sarcasm, unable to keep from interrupting any longer. 

 

Victoria stops and her face takes on a dark expression as she looks at him. “Do you not believe me Albert?”

 

“No,” he says, without hesitation, “And I do not know why your mother made Ernst and I come here with Father today, telling my father that it would be good, that _I_ would be good for you. No doubt she hoped that I would be able to rescue you from Lamb, but it is too late. You have already fallen for his charms and no doubt you trail after him just like your little puppy dog trails after you”-

 

“Albert”- Victoria turns towards him properly. 

 

“You deny it?” Albert says, turning towards her also. Before she can do anything more than open her mouth though he goes on, “I saw the way that your face changed just now when I mentioned him, heard the awe in your voice as you talk of him, a man that you can never have”-

 

“I _can_ have him,” Victoria says fiercely, clenching her fists heatedly and ignoring the way that Dash has now stopped, turned and is now staring at them both. 

 

“Good,” Albert says, “Then go! Go and marry him if that is what you want so much!” he points a finger up the path, but instead of heading down it Victoria calls Dash to her and goes home. As soon as she gets there she heads upstairs. She can hear Albert saying something about how insufferable she is as she does so and as he closes the front door behind him, but she spends the rest of the afternoon writing about how insufferable _he_ is in her journal instead. 

 

Albert, Ernst and their father depart about an hour later and though Victoria’s mother comes to tell her daughter of how disappointed she is in her even Mama it appears can see that her daughter’s mind is not for changing and that she wishes to be left alone. Victoria sighs after her. She does not even go down for supper. Albert has quite taken the enthusiasm for anything out of her. She does not even feel certain that she will go and meet William that night. She had wanted to be proved right that Albert is a complete bore. She had not wanted to row with him however or for his words about William to affect her so. How angry she feels about Albert saying that she follows after William and from him implying that she does not have a mind of her own. How angry she feels about him completely failing to understand just how important her relationship with William has become to her. He will never understand the beauty in their relationship and she knows right then that her heart can never be joined with Albert’s. Knows that he will never win her over. But still that doesn’t stop her from feeling furious about it all. 

 

*

 

It is late. Gone one in the morning and the full moon hangs over the greenhouse that William Lamb is brooding inside of, leaning against one of the raised trays of flowers, his fingers behind him as they cling onto the edge. He wears a black suit jacket over a white shirt along with dark trousers and shoes. He feels sure that it is to late now. That Albert has captured Victoria’s heart. Part of him thinks that he is a fool to have let such a thing happen. For only a fool would allow the heart of the woman he has been searching for, for years be plucked by someone else. But another part of him thinks that it is for the best and feels glad that he’d let her have this chance. She is young, whole. Doesn't she deserve some one who is also that way? William sighs. In his heart and because of the way that he feels for her he is not sure. Not sure if he has done the right thing. It is late though and he is just thinking that perhaps he should retire to bed and abandon this foolish quest of his when there’s a creak and as he looks up dainty, pale fingers push the door of the greenhouse open. He lets out a sharp breath as Victoria steps inside. She is wearing a delicate black shawl around her head and a navy blue dress. Her cerulean eyes peer at him. 

 

“Oh, it is you. I almost didn't recognize you,” William tries to joke. 

 

But Victoria is serious as she draws the shawl down to her shoulders, revealing that her hair for once is free from any braid and William falls even more in love with her, even as she confesses, “I was not sure if I would come here tonight.”

 

William straightens up and turns to face her. His heart is jumping. “If you have seen something inside of Albert that is worthy then”-

 

“Albert is foolish. Less foolish than I would have previously believed him to be, but still foolish nonetheless,” Victoria acknowledges, taking a couple of steps towards him, before she stops again. William’s face grows hopeful, but it soon becomes somewhat serious when she adds a little regretfully, “He did make me think though.”

 

“Yes?” William says, taking a step towards her. 

 

Victoria’s face suddenly takes on a haughty air. “Lord M,” she says, drawing herself up, “Are you really not going to greet me in the way that a Queen should be greeted?”

 

“Forgive me ma’am,” William says with bit of a smile at her breaking the tension with this game. Feeling more relaxed he swoops towards her and goes down on bended knee so that he can kiss her hand. “You look radiant,” he reassures her as he straightens up again and properly takes in how the dress that she’s wearing complements her figure. The colour of it matches the sky outside. A pleasant blush plays about her face and suddenly he finds himself asking, “Would you care for this dance?” as he bows his head. 

 

 _“Dance?”_ Victoria asks, seeming a little alarmed, “Forgive me but I do not know how.”

 

William lets out a pleasant chuckle. “Then let me show you ma’am,” he murmurs, still playing the game as he draws one of her hands down to his waist where it shifts about until it has at last found a comfortable position. He raises her other hand in his. Slowly they begin to sway, lit only by the light of the moon and with only the plants in the greenhouse watching them. It is not long before both of Victoria’s hands go to William’s shoulders and his go to her back, pushing her a little closer. She feels warm against him. _Pleasant._ She has such a nice sweet, fresh scent that it would be quite easy for him to get lost inside it. He can tell however by the way that she keeps her eyes averted that she does not feel the same and that her mind is still on Albert. “You said that he made you think?” he enquires. 

 

Victoria does not need to ask whom he’s referring to. She half-looks at him, before she looks away again. “Yes,” she murmurs, and her fingers shift against the dark jacket that he’s wearing. “He made it sound as if perhaps I was following you blindly.”

 

“That’s why I wanted to give you some time, to make sure that you were not,” he says and their eyes meet properly now. “Still you decided to come?” William asks, as if he’s wondering how that can be and how her mind cannot have been changed.

 

“Yes,” she murmurs, as they turn slowly again, “You see I remembered something and I looked up the meaning of the orchid. You lied that day didn't you?” William looks suddenly sheepish. “You didn't give it to me out of friendship.” 

 

“No,” he nods, his throat feeling suddenly dry and he turns her, so that they come to be in their original position and she now has her back to the door. “What do you think it meant?”

 

Victoria swallows. Her throat is dry too. She has been practising what she needed to say on her way here and now she is ready to say it. “Love and desire,” she breathes, “I think that’s what they meant because you kept them close to a photo of your ex-wife and son and you loved them, and part of you desires them still, but now”-

 

 _“Now?”_ William encourages, feeling a fluttering of both anticipation and excitement inside him as they both their bodies still. 

 

“Now,” Victoria says, “I think that you might love me too and you should know that I couldn't be any more convinced that I feel the same and that my heart could never belong to Albert or anybody but you.” William swallows, feeling honoured that she has just pledged herself so completely to him and he knows in that moment that there are no more excuses that he can make and that the path ahead of them both, whilst full of disapproval from Victoria’s mother and Conroy no doubt, is clearer than it has ever been. This is it now. He has to do his best to love her and not to break her, never bruise her. “Say something,” she encourages, feeling nervous because of her youth and tugging at his jacket, before she grips onto his shoulder some more. 

 

“I think that sounds very agreeable”-

 

“Is that all William?”

 

“You know it’s not,” he murmurs, before he swings her around and dips her. His face hovers over hers for a moment and their breaths intermingle. Her eyes are wide. Both of her hands grip onto him, but only gently, as if she trusts him enough to know that he will not let her fall in that moment. But what she cannot know, as their lips meet at last and her hands move up to rake through his hair, whilst he supports her back, is that he shall never let her fall for as long as they both shall live. Not any more.


End file.
